


My Knight

by Kalira



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Royalty, Fluff, Habits, Knight Keith (Voltron), Knights - Freeform, M/M, Prince Shiro (Voltron), Princes & Princesses, Sheith Month 2018, Tournaments
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-15
Updated: 2018-07-15
Packaged: 2019-05-28 05:20:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,970
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15041627
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kalira/pseuds/Kalira
Summary: Shiro may be enjoying the tournament, and the gathering surrounding it, but his attention lingers, as always, onhisknight.





	My Knight

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Day 15 of [Sheith Month](https://sheithmonth.tumblr.com/): Habits.
> 
> I wrote this because, ah . . . I've never finished a royal AU before, they're my friend M's favourite, and the first one I wrote is for a ship we share _but_. . . [Well, I promised to write a happy one too.](http://kalira9.tumblr.com/post/175122653604/i-let-mad-madam-m-in-my-front-door-yesterday-and) XD

Shiro grinned, banging his goblet appreciatively on the railing before him as the combat was officially declared over. The winner half-turned towards the royal box and gave a dip of his head that wasn’t quite a bow, eyes flashing.

Shiro’s breath caught and he nearly missed the Princess Farla speaking to him, he was so distracted. Sir Keith’s lips curved into a smile and his eyes lingered even as he sheathed his sword and began walking off the field to await the call to his next bout.

Shiro forced his attention to his companions in the box once more, finding it a little easier as a new pair of knights stepped forwards. He felt a tiny smidgen ill-mannered for that, but neither of them fought with anything like the grace and skill Keith displayed. And Shiro had . . . other reasons for enjoying watching his fiercest knight compete.

He smiled slightly, one fingertip idly tracing the swoop of his goblet’s stem. The pinch his sister delivered to his arm made him jump, realising he had drifted off into distractedly dreamy thoughts once more. Allura’s arch expression made him flush, guessing that he had probably _looked_ as dreamy as he felt.

Three bouts later - Shiro had mastered any distraction and engaged his companions in conversation between bestowing appropriate attention and appreciation upon each pair of combatants - they called Sir Keith out once again, his standard hung on the board. Shiro’s breath caught as he shifted a little closer to the edge of his seat.

The breeze caught the standard and the crimson lioness looked as though she was prowling as Keith stalked up to meet his opponent beneath it. The other knight bowed rather less deeply than he should have, and Shiro frowned at the rude gesture, though Keith hardly seemed to notice. Shiro knew he was unlikely to care, in respect to himself.

He quashed his own irritation at the disrespect and watched as Keith raised his blade in a polite salute and awaited the match to be opened. The moment it was Keith was moving, quick and smooth, meeting his opponent’s blade with his own and turning it aside easily.

Sir Laurant was not an unskilled knight - not that many who were had made it this far in the tourney - but he relied upon broad, strong sweeps and heavy blows. One of such strikes might have felled Keith - _might_ ; Shiro had seen Keith shrug off blows that looked as though they ought to have broken him - but it must of necessity be _landed_ first.

And Keith was far too fast, practically dancing as he darted in and out of his opponent’s range, deflecting blows more than countering them. His quick evasions were clearly beginning to anger the other knight, who bellowed and lunged more carelessly in his temper.

Shiro quashed a smile as Keith tumbled easily across the ground under the swing of his opponent’s blade, then came up inside his guard. A brace of his forearm kept Sir Laurant’s blade away from him as he brought his own up fast.

Keith was declared the winner once again - and one of only two knights who had come so far undefeated; the other would almost certainly be his next opponent. That combat would be in the continuing rounds tomorrow, however. The day’s competitions were nearly over, only those shooting the shortbow left until the rest period before the feast.

Shiro excused himself from the company of the other royals as they left the raised box with its gilt trappings, even as they were joined by more nobles and a few of the knights who had competed in the joust but not the sword, or had been eliminated early.

Those who had had the time to clean up a bit before inflicting themselves on the noble spectators, Shiro thought wryly.

He made his way through to the tents where the knights kept their weaponry and equipment, preparing for the events they were competing in and cleaning up afterwards.

It took him almost no time to find the correct tent, the familiar standard hanging on one side of the entrance, which was hanging shut but not tied into place. Shiro stepped beyond the flap and into the tent with a smile. “May I be of assistance?” he asked, eyes immediately seeking out his knight in the much dimmer light inside the tent.

“Your Highness!”

Shiro bowed his head slightly to the other knight in acknowledgement - he hadn’t realised there was anyone else present - but didn’t take his eyes off Keith. He smiled slightly and turned aside, showing his back and left shoulder, still clad in his armour. “If you wish it, my Prince.” he said in soft, warm tones, meeting Shiro’s gaze with his one visible eye.

Shiro was not loath to take the invitation, striding across the tent and raising his hands to the first set of buckles of Keith’s armour. Keith tipped his head, his unbound, slightly damp hair brushing the top curve of his gorget and pauldrons, and tickling across Shiro’s fingers.

Shiro unbuckled both pauldrons, removing them and putting them aside. Keith rolled his shoulders, then glanced at the other knight sharing his tent. Shiro followed his gaze, seeing the man take a step, make as if to speak, then shake his head and look away, face going a ruddy shade. He bowed without looking at them, then headed out of the tent.

Shiro raised an eyebrow, then looked back at Keith, who was stifling a laugh. Shiro removed his gorget as well and dropped a kiss high on his throat, just beneath his jaw.

“You are not very subtle, my Prince.” Keith said dryly, and Shiro smiled. He pressed another kiss to the same place on Keith’s throat, nuzzling up a little higher without pulling away. Keith laughed softly, flexing his shoulders. Shiro smiled, lifting his head and setting to the next piece of armour.

Keith sighed, falling easily into the familiar pattern of movements as Shiro divested him easily of his armour. Shiro slipped lighter caresses into the pattern; trailed his fingertips over Keith’s nape, clasped his hand and brushed a kiss to the inside of his wrist, tickled light fingertips up his thigh after the thick gambeson was out of the way.

Keith huffed a laugh and caught his hand, pulling him upwards. Shiro abandoned the buckles of Keith’s greaves, rising to his feet and humming with pleasure as Keith drew him immediately into a kiss. He wrapped his arms around Keith’s waist, happy to feel him close now without the heavy barrier of his armour.

“I wasn’t finished yet.” Shiro murmured against his mouth, making no move to pull away.

Keith hummed, lips curving. “So you haven’t.” he agreed, eyes heavy-lidded and warm. He bit gently at Shiro’s lower lip, hands sliding up to rest at the base of his neck.

A shiver slipped down Shiro’s spine, and he closed his eyes as he drew Keith into another kiss. He purred at the caress, back arching under Shiro’s arms. Shiro brought one hand up to Keith’s hair, absently winding one wild lock around his fingers as he deepened the kiss. Keith’s tongue curled against his own, body shifting just enough to fit more neatly against Shiro’s.

Shiro forced himself away eventually, though not without a few more slow, lingering kisses. Keith gave a soft moan as he drew back, eyes dark. Shiro shivered at the look in them as Keith watched him through thick lashes, but dropped to his knees once more. Keith’s fingertips trailed over his shoulder as he unbuckled both the greaves and the light sabatons and pulled them off. He put them aside, then moved on to unwrapping the heavy quilted material from around Keith’s long legs, not rushing, allowing his hands to roam over the hard, slender muscle the fabric had been cushioning.

Task complete, he came back up, hands trailing over Keith’s legs along the way. He clasped Keith’s hips, tugging him in closer. Keith tipped his head back to accept a soft kiss, lazier this time but just as sweet.

Shiro was about to break away when Keith’s arms wrapped around his shoulders, keeping him close. Shiro certainly didn’t fight the hold, rubbing one hand up and down Keith’s back as he purred into the soft, slow kisses.

“Mm. . .” Keith nudged his nose against Shiro’s cheek, breath warm against his jaw. “I need to wash up. Especially if you want me to be at the feast tonight.”

“You have to be!” Shiro said immediately, and Keith hummed, a little half-laugh. “If you aren’t too worn out.” he added assiduously, though he knew Keith would not be, not from the exertions the tourney demanded. And if he _were_ he would likely not admit it if sitting out the feast meant leaving Shiro to attend without his watchful eye.

Not that Shiro was likely to be in danger here, but Keith was . . . perhaps a little overprotective.

“I’ll be there, my Prince.” Keith promised, with another nuzzle and a light kiss to Shiro’s cheek. “Clean and presentable and in your colours.” he teased.

Shiro smiled, unable to resist sneaking another kiss. Keith didn’t resist, leaning into Shiro companionably as his hands roamed his knight’s body. He hummed appreciatively. “May I assist you?” he asked again.

Keith raised his eyebrows, but he was grinning, and he certainly didn’t refuse. Shiro brought his hands to Keith’s collar, but just as he was about to begin divesting Keith of the next set of his layers, Coran’s voice called for him from just outside the tent. Shiro sighed, weighing the possibility of ignoring the summons, and Coran called again, louder.

“You should go.” Keith echoed. “Dance attendance on the-” Shiro stifled him with a hand over his mouth and he gave an unimpressed look.

“Oh, I will.” Shiro sighed again, pouting at Keith. It was ridiculous - and it wouldn’t be so bad, Shiro was just . . . not at his most comfortable at the social portions of these events, and he was tiring of them this far into the festivities surrounding the tournament - but it earned him a soft, warm, lingering kiss from his knight before Keith pushed him away, towards the entrance.

When he reached it Shiro paused and looked back, and had to quash the impulse to go right back to his lover as Keith dropped his shirt aside with his surcoat, leaving his slender, well-built frame entirely too well on display. He looked over his shoulder and tipped his head. _Go_.

Shiro narrowed his eyes and pouted playfully again, then smiled. “See you this evening, my knight.” he said lightly. Keith laughed, expression softening, and bowed his head slightly. Shiro left.

Coran was waiting to sweep him off on another series of meetings - influential knights and nobles that they either didn’t know or were renewing acquaintanceship with - and renewing connections under the thin veil of social calls. Shiro suffered through it and deflected to Allura when he could, and only once slipped away when he really shouldn’t have, but for that one Allura was right on his heels.

Lady Honerva was deeply unpleasant to be around for an extended time, and no little alarming; Shiro would, in fact, rather have dealt with Prince Lotor, as infuriating as he could be. Neither he nor his sister felt comfortable in talks with any of the royal family of Galra, but Honerva was . . . frightening.

There was a little time not to be monopolised by duties before the feast, though unfortunately Keith was nowhere near Shiro’s rooms, and most of the time was needed to prepare and dress for the evening in any case. Shiro did so without need for assistance, in part because he was dressing somewhat more simply than his sister. He knew he would get an amusedly exasperated look from her for it at the feast, but he would be acceptably turned out all the same.

He also wore a sash with a crimson band through its centre, for his knight’s colours.

For that, there would only be a knowing look from Allura, if she even bothered with that much for the familiar gesture. Shiro had been wearing some sign of his lover’s colours or standard as part of his finery, particularly at tournaments where Keith was competing, for years.

The feast was loud and boisterous, though it was all in a pleasant mood, and Shiro spotted Keith easily enough - he was long used to seeking Keith out in crowds or even on the battlefield; his slight figure was not so very difficult to find - but didn’t get a chance to join him, or beckon him over, before he was seated at a crowded table for the meal.

Shiro made the best of it, and indeed was surrounded with people he was at least friendly with this time. He escaped afterwards before Princess Farla could - politely - snag him into a dance. Shiro had somewhere else he wanted to be. Besides, while she was a good ally and even a friend, Shiro had always found spending time with her a little unnerving, as she looked incredibly like his sister, for all that their colouring was different.

Keith was caught up in a lively discussion with Sir Lance and a lady knight Shiro didn’t recognise, but he looked up as Shiro approached, lips curving in a welcoming smile.

Shiro returned it, bowing his head politely to the others at the table before returning his attention to his lover. “Good evening, Sir Keith.” he said warmly.

Keith’s lips twitched. “Good evening, my Prince.” he returned, inclining his head.

“You fought well today.” Shiro said, trying to restrain his smile to something mannerly and appropriate for the event. “As you always do, of course.”

Keith’s eyes sparkled with amusement. “Thank you, my Prince.” he said politely.

“Dance with me?” Shiro asked, extending one hand to his knight.

Keith looked up at him, the tiny lines around his eyes and the flick of his gaze giving away his embarrassment. “Highness!” he protested.

“Please, Sir Keith?” Shiro asked again, lightly, grinning.

Keith closed his eyes for a moment, even as he reached up to put his hand in Shiro’s. He opened his eyes again as Shiro drew him to his feet, and they made their way to the dance floor with their twined hands held between them.

Keith didn’t blush - Keith never blushed - but he ducked his head, his loose hair falling forwards a little more around his face to hide it. Despite his bashfulness he stepped quickly into Shiro’s embrace, and moved easily with him as they danced, his tough, lithe frame following each gentle nudge or pull from Shiro with fluid grace.

Shiro tightened his hold on his lover, just a little, unable to resist. Keith raised his head, cocking it to one side and meeting Shiro’s eyes with a half-playful, half-accusatory look. Even so, he didn’t step away, his body warm against Shiro’s as they brushed together with each movement.

Shiro hummed contentedly, rubbing his hand lightly over Keith’s hip. Keith laughed under his breath, fingertips tickling along Shiro’s shoulder and pressing lightly at the base of his neck. He shivered, eyes falling half-closed as he met Keith’s gaze. He smiled.

Keith returned the smile, wrinkling his nose playfully before his expression smoothed. He didn’t try to pull away as the music shifted, and Shiro indulged for perhaps longer than he should have, too pleased to be wrapped up with Keith and no one else.

He probably _should_ return to at least dance with a few of the people he had spoken with today, he knew, and eventually he loosened his hold on his lover and took a step back, sighing. “I should-” he began, but Keith pulled him back.

“Dance with me, Shiro.” he murmured in Shiro’s ear, hands sliding down from their clasp around Shiro’s forearms to his hands.

Shiro hesitated for only a moment before following Keith’s pull happily. Keith brushed a sneaky kiss to his cheek as they closed with each other once more, and Shiro smiled, wrapping his arms around his lover as Keith took the lead this time.

Though they did part a few times, and left the dance floor for drinks or briefly to speak with others, the only reason Shiro couldn’t say he’d danced the night away with his lover was that they had slipped out long before the feast would be over. Keith had been busy today, no one would look too askance at any of the knights who had competed taking an early night. Shiro’s absence would draw perhaps a touch more surprise, but his sister was still in attendance, with Coran at her elbow. He wasn’t strictly _needed_ to stay longer.

Keith wasn’t worn out, naturally - he had scoffed when Shiro suggested that it had been a hard day for him - but an early night allowed for him to spend time with Shiro alone in his rooms. Shiro certainly wouldn’t pass that up, either. He twined their fingers again as they slipped away through the castle corridors. This time Keith held on just as tightly, and when Shiro tugged him into an alcove along the way to steal a kiss he sank into it eagerly, purring with pleasure.

“We should,” Keith began breathily, lips brushing Shiro’s, “get to your rooms, my Prince.”

Shiro hummed agreement, but lingered with his back against the wall and his lover pressed close to his chest. He nipped Keith’s lower lip and kissed him again, shivering as one of Keith’s hands stroked his side, curling into his belt and pulling him closer by it.

“We should.” he agreed, a little breathless, rubbing his nose against Keith’s.

“Come along then, my Prince.” Keith said with an amused lilt, drawing Shiro back out into the corridor.

**Author's Note:**

> . . .'habits' inspired the scene of Shiro helping Keith with his armour, which I saw as a familiar habit of theirs. Which wound up being a much smaller part of the overall story than I thought, really?
> 
> Keith's personal design, if anyone wondered, is quarterly sable and argent bearing a lioness statant gules armed purpure, bounded by a tressure purpure. (A shield with four checker-squares of black and silver bearing the image of a standing red lioness with purple claws, ringed by a double-border of purple at the edges of the shield. The purple is Shiro's colour and added in his honour as Keith is his knight.)
> 
> Shiro decided it was very important I know Keith's standard specifically while I was writing late at night. Blame my years in the SCA for it coming to me in formal heraldic language (M's reaction to my telling her in those terms was entertaining).
> 
> Come say hello over on [Tumblr](https://kalira9.tumblr.com/)!


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